


I'll only stay with you one more night

by waferkya



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Gen, Incest, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-04
Updated: 2013-02-04
Packaged: 2017-11-28 05:54:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/671037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waferkya/pseuds/waferkya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Their house is never really warm in the winter, and Ian puts up with ice-cold tiles in the morning and the drafts that keep slipping under the windows downstairs no matter how many times they try to patch them up, because there’s not much he can do about it, unless they start getting gas for free at least.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll only stay with you one more night

Their house is never really warm in the winter, and Ian puts up with ice-cold tiles in the morning and the drafts that keep slipping under the windows downstairs no matter how many times they try to patch them up, because there’s not much he can do about it, unless they start getting gas for free at least.

The one thing he could always count on, though, was that no matter how frigid the air in the rest of the house, his bed would be an oasis of mild warmth; he’s curled on his side right now, wrapped in all the blankets he’s ever owned, and he’s been shivering for half an hour like he was laying out there in the snow.

This is so fucking unfair and Ian didn’t even get high or drunk, today; he should’ve known better.

He stirs a little and pokes his head out of the covers. The room is awfully quiet, Carl fell asleep hours ago and Ian wishes he had that gift, too. Sound sleep is a thing of childhood, though, and even if his little brother can be dark as a storm in ways most adults are not, he still gets that.

Ian shifts again.

Up in his bunk, Lip is a bundle of blankets and a headful of curls, and he’s very very still in the dim, orange light of the lava lamp sitting on the desk.

Ian is just exhausted and the cold is a sharp knife poking at his lungs, fueling his migraine and slowly driving him crazy; he’s also sad in the way he’s always sad at night, when he can’t help but think that maybe they’d all be better off as orphans, and he can’t bring himself to feel guilty about it.

He’s on his feet, then, most of the blankets still wrapped around his shoulders like a cape, and he blindly walks to Lip’s bed, climbing up and into the bunk. He sits on the edge of the mattress, his shoulders hunched and the back of his head brushing the ceiling. His feet dangle in the orange-tinged darkness and Ian has never felt this cold.

“Something interesting’s happening on that wall?” Lip mumbles, half asleep, and the rough texture of his voice makes Ian shiver again.

“No, not really,” he whispers back, his toes curling. Lip huffs and shifts back without making much noise.

“Get down ’ere then, need sleep. And it’s fucking freezing, c’mon.”

Ian flops down into the pillow, kind of messily; he sneaks under Lip’s covers and smoothes all the blankets over both of them, tucking them in the best he can. He’s under a massive weight of cheap wool and fake goose feathers, but his instinct is still to curl up into the solid warmth of his brother’s body.

Lip sighs and slips one arm around Ian’s waist, pulling him even closer, shoving his feet all over Ian’s stone-cold ankles.

“We should do something about the heating,” Ian whispers to the soft curve of Lip’s neck, but Lip is already asleep.  



End file.
